Tango
by Siberiancypress
Summary: Hermione, along with Harry, Ron and a few others came back to Hogwarts to finish their lost year and get NEWT's. But there is one more thing awaiting the graduates - the last ball and three necessary dances. Waltz, foxtrot and, unfortunately, tango. When Hermione finds herself unable to crack the last one, maybe an unusual teacher might help? [Hermione G./ Draco M.]
1. Chapter 1

I've been listening to far too many tango instrumentals lately and taking trips down memory lane. This is the result. Have fun with it!

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Hermione looked up at the bright vivid green eyes in sheer desperation. She couldn't do this. Give her ten most complicated potions, hell, give her transfiguration, Hogwarts history…anything but this. Harry stopped moving and sighed in resignation.

"Hermione, you need to actually move to dance. I can't just push you around. 'C'mon move with me." He tried again to gently push her into moving with the rich and fiery rhythm of the current piece of music. She didn't budge. There was no point – it's just not her dance. Tango. This darn dance has been bugging her for the last two weeks. All the graduating students needed to learn the three necessary dances for the last ball – waltz, foxtrot and, unfortunately, tango. Even if they were coming additionally for this year, even if they were older than the rest of the students….even if they saved the bloody world, they still had to learn it.

Hermione had no desire to actually go to the dancing classes when she had so little time to prepare for the NEWT's. Also, the small fact that she made a fool of herself for the first two lessons, made it easier to find a reason to skip them. She had to confess, to herself at least, that she was a sore loser in any class. Hermione Granger was just not used to fail at anything, really. That's why the "brightest witch of her age" was currently standing in the middle of the Room of Requirement with Harry Potter holding her snugly against his lean frame and trying to make her move somehow. It wasn't working.

Pushing her friend away she gently shook her head and reached for her wand to stop the music. In the eerie silence she sighed:

"I can't, Harry, I honestly can't do this. If it was something I could learn, like waltz, sure, but this is just ridiculous. There is no rhyme or reason to this stupid dance!" Harry just sighed and scratched the back of his head in resignation.

"Mione, if you don't even try to understand how it works I can't teach you!" he seemed exasperated at his friend's unusual unwillingness to learn "I know I'm not the best tutor, but remember Ron was worse!" That made them both giggle. Even if they were all a little broken and scarred, there were still happy moments when the memories of the war slipped into the background for a second. Hermione remembered fondly the way her boyfriend, Ron, tried to teach her. He was always straightforward with everything, so she just ended up thrown around the room by the sheer weight and body mass of her redhead. That was until he got pissed at her inability to follow and Harry took over the tuition. He was by far more patient…and a bit less forceful about it, but Hermione still couldn't figure this bloody dance out.

"I don't understand how it works, Harry. I mean how can I follow, if I have no idea what you will do next? I can't just keep guessing!"

"Uhh…well I tried to explain, you don't figure it out, you have to feel it, or something. That's how McGonagall explained it to us, at least."

"Right. Has anyone managed to actually do it?" The fussy witch asked with a raised brow. She was very doubtful of it.

"Yeah, a few people, actually…but not many. It would be a shame if you could not learn something they could…" He told her, hoping to bring out the Gryffindor competitiveness in her. Maybe then his stubborn friend will take this seriously.

"Like who, for example?" she demanded louder. It was beyond belief that someone could actually follow these vague instructions.

"That is…well…co…couple of Ravenclaws, the blonde girl, Abby, I think, and her friend Rose. Also a few Slytherins, that Hufflepuff with curly brown hair... But the best is probably…" he trailed off, not really wanting to say it out loud.

"Yes…?" she pushed further, madly curious who the heck it may be.

"You won't like it…"

"Why should I care, just tell me, I'm plain curious now!"

"Malfoy."

"Excuse me?" she stared at the green eyes in disbelief. There is no way, she must have heard wrong.

"You heard me. The prat is ridiculously good at it, I have no idea how. Not that I want to admit it, but it's kind of impressive." Harry reluctantly praised the sworn enemy…well, not really an enemy any more. He walked to an armchair in the corner and heavily fell into it. Malfoy was surprisingly quiet all year, he attended classes, ate in the great hall from time to time, but other than that…he kept to himself. Harry still had a hard time forgiving the Malfoy heir for all the hell he and his family raised, but seeing the bastard so dimmed made him wonder if maybe he really was regretting all of it. Maybe this war changed him, just like the rest of them.

And now they were all back at school, it seemed surreal – going to classes, eating, sleeping. It all seemed like a dream to Harry, but he knew it won't last very long. There was only one week left before the exam season starts… and that means only one dancing lesson was left. Looking at the head of bushy hair bouncing toward him just to flop into nearby armchair he understood all too well – their little dancing lessons were doomed. When he turned to Hermione to let her know that much, she was staring at him in a calculative way.

"I want him to teach me, then." She stated flatly.

"Mione, have you lost it completely?" harry asked in disbelief "It's Draco bloody Malfoy we are talking about! He will eat you alive or die laughing before he even agrees to it!"

"I highly doubt it. He's changed drastically after the war. The bastard doesn't bother people for fun anymore, he eats alone, studies alone…It's even a bit concerning. Also, he owes us, Harry. He owes me. We all stood up for him during the court and that is why he's still here, not in Azkaban. I think that's reason enough. Don't worry about his sharp tongue, if that's your main concern, I can handle that much." The brown haired girl refused to back down, even if it seemed near impossible.

"Well…alright, I'll try to talk him into it, though I really doubt he'll agree to any of this. But you will have to speak to Ron - he will be pissed about it. Probably more than Malfoy…" Harry resigned to at least try, even if there was little hope. He will do this for Hermione.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x—x-x-x-x-x-x-x

After the next day's lesson, in which Hermione chose not to participate, Harry came back to the main room quite grim. Feeling her hopes being crushed by the look on her friend's face she still resolved to ask how it went.

"Harry, how was the lesson?" she asked as neutrally as she could, looking up form transfiguration textbook.

"The lesson, or the chat with Malfoy?" the green eyes young man asked, flopping into one of the cozy chairs wearily.

"Both."

"Well, the lesson was pretty nice, McGonagall chose three best students for the three last dances…Neville was chosen for waltz…" he babbled, stalling.

"Okay, okay, I lied, just tell me about the talk with Malfoy!" Hermione whined, not having the patience for her friend's antics. Laughing Harry took a moment to weigh his words.

"It…went better, than expected." He started, amused by the glint in Hermione's eyes. She really shouldn't be so happy about the prospect of dancing with Malfoy. "He thought I hit my head first two minutes and called me mad for the remaining three…but I managed to talk him into teaching you. I guess he just wanted to be able to hold something over you, Hermione…so you might expect stupid insults and so on. You know, Malfoy being Malfoy?"

Her face lit up despite the warning. At least he agreed, and that was a win in itself. The Slytherin might be reluctant to do it, but she knew he won't allow her to fail after tutoring her – that would show his inability to teach." We lived with it for years, I imagine I can deal with another few hours. When do we start?"

"Tonight, after dinner. Did you tell Ron?"

Hermione winced, remembering the nasty conversation she had with her boyfriend. He was a bit possessive and that was mostly fine, she had no interest in finding someone else, but the irrational nature of his behavior made her cringe a bit. "I did, we had a tiny little…row, I guess…but he agreed as long as you and he both will be present."

"I expected worse." Harry smiled at her "But staying in the same room might be problematic…we do have bad history."

"Well, you two will have to behave…" Hermione trailed off, wondering how this whole scene will play out.

That evening, when she nervously pushed the door open in the middle of the Room of Requirement stood a tall dark figure – Draco Malfoy – dressed in muggle trousers and a black turtleneck. Back straight and eyes distant he looked directly at her without any emotion. Breathing in deeply Hermione stepped into the room and closed the door behind Ron.

"Hello, Granger."

"Malfoy."

"I was told you apparently sorely lack in the department of dance, especially in tango. Why am I not surprised? It's not something you can learn by sheer stubborn studying…" he trailed off taking in her appearance – plain blouse, a big Gryffindor scarf and a knee length fluffy dancing skirt. Light pink. She hated the skirt by the look of it. To be honest, so did he.

"Well, that's why you are here, if you really are so good at it, I'm sure you can teach me." She countered dryly. Hermione knew she needs to be prepared for this, so the response was ready on the tip of her tongue.

"I'm not quite as sure, Granger." He gave another appraising look, it started to make her uncomfortable.

"And why is that, if I may ask?"

"You're frigid." He answered without a second of doubt. Hermione felt her face flare. How dare he?

"Listen, you sick fuck, shut your mouth or I will shut it for you!" Ron roared beside her. Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin "This is my girlfriend you are talking about! You are only here because she wanted you to be, so be grateful we're not bashing your ugly face in!"

"I am eternally in your debt, Weasel." The blond man answered tonelessly. There was no fear in his eyes, but no anger ether, looking at the stormy gray orbs she started to wonder which one of them is frigid. The little scene made her blush disappear and she could face him again. The bastard. Harry interrupted her gathering resolve by shushing both young men.

"Come on, stop it! This is stupid. Ron, calm down. Malfoy, stop being an asshole and start teaching, will you."

"As you wish your highness." Malfoy bowed in the general direction of the 'boy who lived' and reached his hand out to Hermione "Come, then, Granger."

She hesitantly walked forward with a scowl on her face and reached for his hand. It was surprisingly cool and soft. Pulling her closer Malfoy slid a hand around her waist, but Hermione seemingly refused to move closer to him – she kept a decent distance between their bodies. "This is not waltz, fool, come closer." He demanded impatiently, but to her surprise made no move to pull her to him forcibly. After momentary surprise the Gryffindor girl stepped a little closer and let him press her upper body against his chest, wrapping his arm around her whole body with ease. Harry didn't hold her so close when they tried this before and the proximity along with the strangely pleasant smell of the cursed Slytherin made her a little heady.

"Potter, some music if you don't mind."

When the relatively slow tango filled the room, he whispered into her ear "Ready?" and surprisingly waited for her to nod numbly before trying to push her back a little for the first steps. The tiny girl moved alright, but it was almost robotic. Hermione was in panic. She had not anticipated her own reaction to any of this…The body heat radiating from his chest, the light push of his body, making her move, it was all too overwhelming to let her actually move properly. Thus she clung to him for dear life and hoped he will just push her around, like Ron, with enough force to make her actually move. But unfortunately he didn't. "What's the matter, Granger? You forgot how to move your feet?" he asked not too quietly into her ear.

"It's your job, isn't it? To push me around the floor." She hissed back. That very moment she was free of the warm embrace – her dancing partner took a good step back, looking at her like she's just grown a second head.

"You don't push women around in tango, stupid…witch." Malfoy barked, hands on his hips, as if scolding a small child. "If you don't even know that much…" he looked sideways at Harry, who shook his head sternly "…we have a long way to go."

"And how is it not the case?" she asked indignant. However you looked at it, that's what all the men did, as much as she has seen.

"It defeats the purpose." The platinum blonde answered flatly, as if it was common sense. Seeing she still had no idea what he means, he elaborated "The purpose of tango is for the man to worship the woman, so any kind of forcefulness is unacceptable."

Hermione stared at the stormy gray eyes trying to figure out if this is some sort of joke, but found only serious intent. "W-worship?" she stammered out, almost pierced to the spot by the intense gaze – like a butterfly pinned to the board.

"Indeed. It appears we will have a lot to learn." He sighed in resignation and took her hand once again, this time stepping closer to hold her against his body a little looser. "First, you will need to learn to walk, so that is what we'll do. I step forward with my left foot, and you step back with your right. Opposite of waltz. Now let's try…One. Two . Three. Step."

She took a good step back on his mark, but the pale brow still furrowed. "No, not like that. Don't just trot like a mule." Hermione felt embarrassment stain her cheeks red once more and tried to step back, but his hand held her firmly, even when she squirmed.

"Hey, get your hands off her, bastard!" Ron bristled immediately. It was enough to make both the girl and her teacher freeze.

"If I will, there's not much I can teach her." Draco answered levelly. "And if you intend to keep yelling and interrupting us every time I move my finger the wrong way, you might as well leave the room, Weasley."

"Like hell I'm leaving!" the redhead yelled coming closer to the pair. This time it was Hermione, who stopped him.

"Ron, I need you to let me do this. I want to dance with you in the ball, I want to make that day special for the both of us, so please…Please let me try. If he will not help me, I promise to stop, but I need to try…" she spoke as gently as she could, closing the gap between them and giving her boyfriend a peck on his lips. "But Mione…" he tried and got another peck. "Alright, fine. But I won't watch this, or I'll kill him. Don't stay alone with him." The curly haired girl just nodded and let her boyfriend slip out of her embrace and disappear through the door. Harry stood in the corner unmoving like a statue and refused to interfere. Taking a steadying breath Hermione turned back around to face her partner, still standing patiently in the middle of the room.

At least three songs have changed over that period of time, and the forth one was rather fiery even for a tango. With purpose she strode back to Malfoy and stood inches away. "So how do I step, if what I did before is wrong?" she asked a bit irritated. Instead of an answer he took her hand and drew her back into the snug standard hold of Tango. Only when she relaxed a fraction, he spoke. "Tango dancers are cats on a tightrope…" Malfoy whispered close to her ear, voice low and smooth – almost like a purr of a very large cat. It made her shiver lightly. "You don't walk, you slide your feet, never lifting them up off the floor fully. One fluid motion between the man and the woman. You step back…" and she did, almost automatically, sliding her left foot back against the floor "And I follow in your footsteps, filling the space you just left…like a predator stalking prey." He continued, taking a measured, elegant step forward. "Again."

For long minutes, seemingly hours, they walked around the room learning various ways in which you can step – directly, diagonally, in reverse - and she slowly let his rhythm take over. It was pleasantly slow and steady. Never forceful, never hurried - almost hypnotic and Hermione started to feel the magnetic pull between their feet. When she pulled away he followed smoothly as if drawn by an invisible force, when he nudged her foot to the side, she stepped without resistance. There was no need to look down, so she just closed her eyes and let her body relax a little. As much as she could, that is, with his body pressed closely enough, that her hair could easily tickle his cheek and his breath smoothed over her ear. She fully gave into the rhythm so his voice in her ear nearly made her jump. "Good, you feel it now."

"O-okay, so what's next?" Hermione asked quietly, surprised how timid she sounded, even to herself.

"Now you need to learn to stand properly and not cling to me so desperately." He answered still beside her ear. She could almost hear the smirk. The girl's blood boiled in a second.

"Well, excuse me for holding on to you, you git, but considering you press me so darn close I don't really have an option, now do I?" Pushing away a bit she couldn't help her tone rising with every word. By the end of the sentence it echoed in the nearly empty room. The only answer was a chuckle.

"How very Gryfindor of you, but there is no need to get violent so quickly. All I'm saying is that this dance requires separate weight centers for both dancers." The tall blonde explained in a very calm and almost teacher like tone. Despite it, Hermione could still hear the smirk in his tone and see it hidden in the clear, cool eyes. He was enjoying this too damn much. Deciding not to give the Malfoy heir pleasure of irritating her, Hermione lowered her voice and tried to stop the blood pumping in her veins violently. It was making her blush – again. "How so? I can't stop holding you…"

Well that came out wrong…One elegant brow rose questioningly and a small smile appeared on the usually sneering face. "I'm glad to hear that you find me so irresistible. What I meant, however, is that no matter how close the partners are each still stands on their own weight center, never fully relinquishing their power to the other. It's a dance that gives equal rights to both dancers." Next moment he was holding her at arm's length, his rather large palms curled around her shoulders. Somehow this was worse than the tight hold – she actually had to look at him. Even with the usual snide demeanor all she could see was haunted grey eyes and his skin so very pale against the black wool of the turtleneck. The Slytherin looked bone weary, even if he tried his best to hide it. She could only guess he has his nightmares, just like her and Harry, and Ron. Pushing the gloomy thoughts out of her head she concentrated on the moment.

"So w-what do I do? Just stand here?"

"No, we'll move, just like before, but this time imagine there's a rope going through the center of your body. You stand perfectly straight and it holds you up, connected to the floor and the ceiling. Even if you lift your foot up, even when you move, the rope is always there, holding you up, so there is no need to give your personal power over to your partner. Now close your eyes and try seeing it. When you see it, nod, and we will move again. " Draco spoke quietly, almost clinical detachment mixing with something else in his low baritone. It strangely made her feel safer – the detached tone. Hesitantly Hermione closed her brown eyes and tried to imagine the rope, still feeling his palms on her shoulders. It took a moment to imagine it, to see it clearly, but she did and nodded slowly.

"And…one, two, three. Step." He whispered, barely pushing her back into the familiar slide. It felt different now, with her eyes closed and the weight of Malfoy further away, the Gryffindor could feel her own center. It was a bit unstable at first, but he practically let her move as she wanted barely holding her up at all, so soon she was forced to find her own balance and along with it the growing trust. Not in him, but in her own ability to keep herself up, to step knowing she will stand straight whether he will hold her up or not. Power. It was intoxicating.

"Good. Feel it." He spoke quietly, as if afraid to lose the momentum "Step into your own power. You don't need me. Your partner is just here because you want him to be, not because you need it. We are in this dance together by free choice." Without breaking rhythm he stepped closer, sliding his hand round her waist and she let him. It changed nothing. When Hermione chose to open her eyes she was met with his cool silvery orbs staring at her intently, watching for the smallest waver in her pose. So he was looking out for her after all, even if she stood on her own now. Without thinking twice she put her hand on his shoulder, not for support, but simply for contact – it felt better this way.

Despite the bickering Hermione had to acknowledge, that this was the most pleasurable dancing lesson she had ever had. His voice, his touch…it felt so good, even when it really shouldn't. This was Draco Malfoy – the insufferable sodden aristocrat they hated for years, and yet that was what made him attractive. He was an aristocrat, through and through. Beneath the snide remarks and learned cruelty there was poise, dignity, and impeccable manners. Hermione Granger really hated the fact she always liked this sodden aristocrat. Somehow it probably showed, because one corner of his lips rose up barely noticeably. Trying to dissolve the strange electrified silence she spoke up.

"So what's next, professor?"

"Nothing." He answered, still tracking her every expression "That is all for today. If you want to further practice, I think Potter can help you with that. Just kindly don't involve your beloved ginger. That Neanderthal might undo all my hard work. "

"Wait a second! I haven't learned anything, except for walking! It's not enough to dance!" Like hell she was about to let him leave now, when it's actually going somewhere.

"No it's not. That is why you'll need further lessons, Granger. More than one, I imagine." He countered releasing her and turning away towards the door. Throwing a glance over his shoulder Malfoy added "Meet me here in two days, after dinner, and do try not to forget what you learned till then. Potter." With a small nod towards Harry he walked out without looking back and Hermione was left to stand in the middle of the large stone room by herself.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Standing in front of the Room of Requirement for the second time Hermione sighed in both apprehension and relief. She had practiced with Harry for a bit in the last two days, but it wasn't the same. She tired with Ron too, but that went downhill very quickly. One lesson in dancing was enough for her to understand how overbearing Ron could be while dancing… and not only dancing. War changed him, Ron, and though it brought them together, now it was almost tearing them apart. His constant temper tantrums were getting out of hand lately…pushing the thought out of her head Hermione stepped through the door just t o find the room empty. A fire was burning brightly in the fireplace, there were candles around the room, making the stone walls seem cozy. The armchairs were there as well, just like last time, only there were no Harry and no Malfoy. Has he forgotten? As if answering her thoughts the door opened quietly and the devil himself stepped though, this time wearing a rather large bottle green sweater. Taking a good look around the room Malfoy turned towards her.

"Evening, Granger. Where is your chaperone?" he asked lightly.

"My what?"

"I mean Potter. Should I wait outside till he shows up? We wouldn't want your weasel trying to kill me, now would we?"

"If you stopped insulting Ron, maybe he wouldn't be so akin to bash your head in?" even if Ron was a bit out of it, he was still her boyfriend, so the remark made her bristle. Damn Malfoy.

"I highly doubt it. And where would be the fun in that?" he answered smirking.

"You were not at dinner today. Where were you?" she changed the subject before it got out of hand. It was bugging her for a while now. Malfoy rarely ate in the great hall, only couple days a week, at best. She always wondered where did he eat? Or if he ate at all.

"I beg your pardon? How is that any of your business, Granger?" the blond bit back, scorching her with an affronted look.

"Well, I noticed you rarely eat at the great hall, so I just wondered…I'm just trying to keep a polite conversation…"

"Then kindly don't. Where the hell is Potter? We can't wait for him the whole evening."

"Fine. Let's start then, he will come around any minute." She gave up even trying to be polite. This was Malfoy after all.

"If you say so." He flicked his wand towards the horn in the back of the room and music flooded the empty space. Coming closer he reached out his hand. Hermione took it without second thought.

"So what are we learning today?" the curly haired girl asked. She gave up her stupid skirt from the last lesson. This time it was replaced by simple leggings and long, nearly knee length sweater. It was a bit chilly after all.

"Trust." He answered curtly. Linking her hand with his Draco took the last step to close the distance between their bodies.

"That doesn't sound good…" Hermione started suspicious. Trusting someone, whom you considered enemy for years, was not that easy.

"I'd imagine it doesn't. But look at the bright side, Granger, if you can learn to trust me, everyone else will be easy." There was no bite in his voice, the blonde Slytherin was simply stating a fact.

"And how do you intend to teach me?" She was still not satisfied with the lack of information on what this 'trust' entails.

"Firstly, we will learn to turn. Let's start with a step. Ready?" he stepped forward easily coaxing the tiny girl to follow. "Now you will have to let me turn your body without trying to stop me or calculate how much I can spin you. You will have to learn to trust me to know your limits. The man in tango has the duty to know every single second the position of his own body and the body of his lady. To observe where your body mass is located, which leg you are standing on, so he could move and turn you safely and with ease. First, put all your weight on one foot and lift the other up a little. Can you still stand comfortably?"

"I can…I guess."

"Good." He took half a step back, still holding her hand and waist safely. "Now I will turn you on the foot you stand on. Let me." He instructed tonelessly. The distance she might have felt diminishing during the last lesson was back. He did turn her, slowly and steadily pushing her tiny frame back, but since Hermione had no idea how far he will turn her, instinctively she put her foot down for safety. "Granger! I told you, let me decide how far it will go."

"Right, well sorry! But how the heck I am supposed to know just how far will you turn me? I really don't feel like splattering myself on the floor." She bit back a little irritated. It was not her forte, to let someone take control, at least not with anything concerning her body. Her little outburst was met with a sigh.

"Look, I know you are the brain of this golden trio, you are the one used to plan and calculate everything…that's why I told you, you will need to learn trust. I'm well aware, that I am not the best person for your first lesson, but if you want to dance Tango, you will have to step over that line." He looked down at her patiently, instead of anger, his voice was surprisingly gentle. Looking straight into her big brown eyes he spoke almost in a whisper "I will not let you fall, no matter what. It's my duty to make sure you are safe and comfortable every minute of our dance and I would rather break my arm than let you fall, do you understand?"

She couldn't breathe. The gentle tone, the serious, attentive expression on his face made her want to cry for some reason. If she was earnest with herself, Hermione was afraid for people to hurt her if she lets them, especially men. But the shatteringly honest gentleness that filled his eyes for a moment, slowly made the line she drew within her mind – her safety barrier - start to blur.

"Look at me, Granger, and tell me, am I lying?"

"No…" She was trembling now, and for some reason, couldn't stop, no matter how hard she tired.

"Shhh…Let's try again, slowly." Draco carefully pushed the tiny girl in his arms back an inch, then two taking a measured step forward and never losing her gaze. She felt so warm and fragile in his arms, like a little bird fluttering nervously in his grasp. He was determined to keep at least this little bird safe. Inch by inch they were slowly turning and Hermione didn't fight him anymore, but the Slytherin could still feel her fear "It's alright, see? You're safe." He cooed softly as they came full circle, all around her axis, and he let her stand again. "Was that so bad?"

"N-no…sorry, I guess I just panicked before." She looked down sheepishly, unable to meet his gaze anymore. The Gryffindor could distinctly feel every contact point – her palm almost drowned in his larger one, the blonde's hand on her waist, holding her securely. Why it didn't feel like that before? Why does it burn her skin only now?

"Do you want to try again? Maybe a little faster this time?"

"Okay. Just not too fast…?" Hermione dared a peek at his face and found a small, warm smile there. "Not too fast." He agreed quietly and pushed her back lightly into the tango slide. They walked around varying steps for a minute before he stopped them both only to turn her body to the right slowly. The fact, that his dancing partner only tensed for a second made Draco stupidly happy for some unknown reason. They repeated the step and turn sequence again and again, getting faster and better at it every time. The fact they were still alone in the large room slipped into the background, unnoticed by either of the dancers – the snake and the lion were lost in a world of their own.

"Are you ready to try something new?" Draco whispered into her ear after another fluent turn. She was relaxed and soft in his arms, no trace of fear left. "Hmmm? Sure…" Hermione answered a little hazy. Her face was pressed snugly into the crook of his neck and his body heat made her feel almost boneless, even if she still stood firmly on her own feet. Suddenly Hermione felt her tutor spin her body rather quickly to the right and his body started to dip a little. Pushed out of her center of gravity she instinctively raised her free leg to wrap it around his thigh for support. Still off balance she slid forward, so very closely into his body, her breasts pressed against his chest and a surge of heat traveled down her spine in a second.

"Dr- Malfoy, what are you doing?" Hermione lifted her face up to scold him but the reprimand died on her lips. The pale, angular face was inches away from her, eyes alight with mischief and something that resembled joy.

"Very good." He whispered so very close to her lips, a tiny crooked smile on his face "You didn't even hesitate for a second." The blonde rose back up to full height stepping forward. Only then Hermione felt his hand let go of her palm and hook into the back of her knee, keeping her leg up and around his hip when they stood. The brightest witch of her age knew her face was flaming. She absently wondered how her hair hadn't caught fire yet.

And of course, that was the lucky moment the door decided to fly open. Hermione already started to formulate her explanation for Harry…just it wasn't Harry in the doorway. Mop of red hair was telling enough. A furious looking Ron staggered through the door looking at the pair, still locked in the intimate embrace.

"Get your fucking hands of my girl, you freak!" he roared, though the words seemed a little jumbled "I knew this was a bad idea, to let you come here with this sick bastard."

"Weasley, we are just dancing, calm down. There is no need to exaggerate, it's not like we're snogging in here." Malfoy tried calmly, but couldn't help the sneer slipping into his voice. He let the girl go instantly, taking a small step back from her, but never loosing contact completely. The blonde could smell firewhisky on the other young man from meters away. Pathetic.

"Of course you wouldn't be…she won't even let ME grope her about, so why should she let you?" the ginger sneered, looking from one dancer to the other. Hermione stood there frozen. He didn't. She didn't want to believe the man she called her boyfriend would say something like this to her, not in front of other people. How could he humiliate her so? Tears started to sting her eyes and she quickly closed them to try and stop herself from crying.

"Weasley…" Malfoy's tone suddenly turned icy, bearing a not too subtle warning. "This is your own woman you are talking about, chew your words before you spit them out."

"Like you care! Why are you doing this, huh? To try and gain our trust for another filthy plan, or is it just to get a good squeeze because no other girl would let you touch her with those filthy hands?" The young Weasley was getting redder in the face by the second, blotches of the color appeared below his face, peppering his neck. He looked almost completely out of control and it only took him a second to launch at the Slytherin. Draco sidestepped the attack easily, putting himself in between Hermione and Ron. Unfortunately that was the moment Hermione, being the Gryffindor she is, chose to walk towards her boyfriend.

"Ron, please, calm down. You had too much. I'm sorry I came here without Harry, but he was late and we just decided to practice until he shows up…Please, stop it." She came close enough to reach out and touch his shoulder, trying to calm him down.

"Oh, right Harry was just late, so you decided to take the chance to let that bloody murderer grope your ass for the time being? Am I not good enough for you? My prick's not good enough?" Ron asked seemingly lost in the drunken haze. He grabbed Hermione's shoulders and shook her violently watching the brown eyes grow wide in shock. Her disbelief only made him angrier. Without thinking he raised his hand but before it came down to connect with the curly haired girl's face, a pale palm wrapped around his wrist and pulled the drunk Gryffindor away, bending his hand behind his back in a secure hold.

The door swung open at that very moment and a panting Harry fell through it. "Sorry I forgot…What the hell?" he asked in a startled voice.

He took a second to absorb the scene in front of him. Hermione stood with her hands wrapped tightly around herself, seemingly crying, and non other that Draco Malfoy was holding his friend Ron tightly as the redhead struggled cursing them all to the end of existence.

"You are late, Potter." Malfoy spat icily "And since you were not here, we started our lesson without you. Then this rowdy oaf came blundering in blind drunk swearing like a pig and nearly hit his own girlfriend." Pushing Ron towards Harry not too gently the blond added "Get him out of here, before I harm him, because at the moment I really want to."

Harry caught his best mate clumsily and nearly stumbled to the ground with him. One thing was for certain, Ron really was drunk and Harry could smell it. Holding the ginger up he took a look at Malfoy, the Slytherin was seething.

"Potter, go. Now. Calm him down and sober him up. I'll take care of Granger."

That sounded strange to say the least, so the black haired teenager took a look at Hermione instead, looking for her input. The usually proud girl just nodded timidly still hugging herself "Go, Harry, we'll be fine. I'll be fine."

"O-okay, if you're sure, 'Mione... I'll be back soon." He nodded to her reassuringly and dragged still barely standing Ron out the door.

Silence in the Room of Requirement was deafening. Hermione stopped the music after Ron's unexpected arrival and now only small hushed sobs from the girl herself broke the fragile peace. Turning towards the Gryffindor girl Draco stepped closer carefully, not to give her any reason to get more frightened. Fortunately she seemed completely unafraid of his proximity, even when the blond took her by the shoulders and gently steered them both towards the armchairs in the back of the room. Sitting her down in one he kneeled in front of it.

"Gran-… Hermione, are you alright?" he asked hesitantly and quietly gauging her every expression. Tears were still running down her face in a steady stream. The sight made his chest contract painfully.

"I-I'm fine." She choked out with effort "I'll be okay. He didn't hurt me…"

"Yes he did. Hermione, has this happened before?" Draco really didn't feel like prodding into her life, but somehow he just had to know.

"This? You mean…?" she asked, though Malfoy could easily tell she knew what he meant, and the stalling made him nervous.

"I mean has he ever gotten blasted and decided it's okay to hit you?" he asked more firmly, reaching up and turning her face to look straight at him.

"He didn't hit me before!" she raised her tone instantly in defense, whether of Ron or herself, she really didn't know.

"But he got drunk before, am I right?" Malfoy was looking at her, the usual indifferent mask gone and replaced by both anger and concern. This night their former enemy had handled her so very gently, cared for her, protected her…treated her probably better, than Ron had for the last month…With that thought she couldn't hold it together any more. Sliding out of the large chair she kneeled beside him on the cold floor and wrapped her arms around his waist falling into the warm, solid chest. Hesitantly Draco's hands came to rest on her back, after a minute gathering the courage to slide up and down slowly. Hermione expected the Slytherin to push her away or prod for an answer, but he didn't. In the lingering silence the supposedly evil, heartless bastard held her quietly and let her release all sorrows into his chest. After long minutes Hermione broke the spell.

"After the war…Ron changed. We all did, I know that, but he got lost in the grief and sadness left behind." She spoke barely audibly, half to him, half to herself "At first it was just a little bit, to help him fall asleep, but after a while I would sometimes find him sleeping with an empty bottle by the bed. In the last couple of months it got worse…He sometimes comes to classes a bit drunk. I…I tried to talk him out of this, to be there for him…but it just doesn't work. He can't let go, the scars are too deep…" She looked up wondering what kind of expression she'll find. One thing she didn't expect was anger, mixed with a good dash of sadness in those pale, almost silver eyes. Sitting down on the floor Malfoy dragged Hermione down into his arms more comfortably and propped his back against the armchair.

"We all have scars left over from the war. Some are more visible, than others…but they all hurt." he slid his sleeve up a bit to let part of the horrid mark peek out "Every one of us is a little cracked, but it's alright, that's how light get's in. I know he suffered and I am not saying he should forget his pain, but Ronald, just like the rest of us, must learn from it - not let it consume him. However, that is a choice he must make on his own, you cannot force him to understand." They lapsed back into silence for another long minute. Despite the cold marble floor she felt warm wrapped in the Slytherin's arms. It was surreal, this entire evening. If somebody had told her a year ago, that she will spend an evening crying her eyes out into welcoming embrace of Draco Malfoy, soothed by his warm hands and slow breathing….Well, let's just say Hermione might have sent them to St. Mungo to get their head checked. And yet, here they were.

"Malfoy?" Hermione asked afraid to break the fragile moment. He looked down at her almost lazily, all anger gone and replaced by a gentle but distant gaze.

"You know, when you cry on someone for nearly half an hour, I think it's only reasonable to call them by their given name, wouldn't you say so?" The platinum blonde smirked, teasing her, but there was no malice in it. Hermione had to bite her lip that very moment. Why, oh, why he had to be so unreasonably handsome…

"Um…D-Draco?" she tried his name on her tongue and it rolled off easily enough.

"Yes?"

"I didn't actually cry on you for half an hour, did I?" she asked both affronted and terrified to hear the answer. He laughed. At first it was only a soundless rumble in his chest, but it soon grew out into a low, husky chuckle and eventually full blown laughter. Hermione nearly chocked – she had never heard him laugh before, not the empty, vicious sound, but actual free, uninhibited laughter. Lord, it was beautiful.

"That's what bothers you most? Truly?" He asked catching his breath. "Well if you must know, it was actually longer…"

"I refuse to believe that." She said flatly, staring him down with a bright, albeit watery, smile.

"I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about that. Fact is fact." The smirk was both gorgeous and insufferable. Feeling somehow more confident Hermione dared to ask a question of her own.

"Draco? Why don't you eat in the great hall or sit with the Slytherins in the library anymore?" she questioned on a more somber note.

"And why should I answer?" He countered not unkindly.

"Quit pro quo. I splattered my most pressing secret all over your sweater…I think it's only fair if you answer me this one question." Somehow the Gryffindor girl was not afraid of his anger anymore; she just hoped he won't shut down if she pressed a little further. Her question was met by eerie silence. When Hermione had nearly given up and stirred to get back on her feet his hands squeezed her closer. Staring distantly at the far wall he finally spoke up.

"At the beginning of this year the Headmistress received quite a lot of letters, concerning me personally. After the first month she contacted me to let me know, that more than a few parents of younger Slytherins are concerned about their children spending time around…Around a death eater. Then I was sure she will throw me out to satisfy those parents…"

Hermione sat there stunned into silence. How dare they? Most of Slytherins has some family connections to death eaters…The indignation found its way out of her mouth unbidden. "What right do they have to complain?! Half of them if not more were death eaters themselves, or had family among them! "

"That's precisely the point." He answered surprisingly calmly. The tone shushed her back into silence instantly "They…we lost the war. Every former death eater or their family is now an open target, they are afraid to be even remotely associated with any of it, lest their family fell under suspicion. It's a protective mechanism, I can't really blame them. Most people wearing this bloody mark, just like mine, are now in Azkaban. I am only here out of your mercy and Potter's too, as he so pleasantly reminded me just a few days ago." The bitter smile on his face made Hermione sick. It was her fault, she had told Harry to hold it over Draco's head at the beginning of the week.

"I'm sorry…It was my fault, I was angry and told Harry that you owe me at least a dancing lesson for…I'm so sorry…"

"It's fine. True, actually." Draco cut her off a little too forcefully making the brown haired girl cringe "That is why I was surprised when McGonagall allowed me to stay here. Being the honorable Gryffindor she is, she saw no fault of mine in the matter…and so we came to an arrangement. "

A-arrangement?" Hermione asked carefully, afraid to even move. This strange moment of openness was giving her more information, than she expected… and she didn't like any of it.

"Arrangement. She gave me separate quarters in one of the further towers – just a small room and a bathroom, but more than enough for one person. That way she satisfied the demand of keeping me away from children without actually doing any harm to me or my studies. She also gave me the permission to eat in the kitchens, if I should choose to do so. It was my personal choice to keep away from other students – they are either too afraid to move or run off every time I come near, so it's easier to simply stay away, for both parties."

"So when you are not in the great hall, you eat in the kitchens? Bu that's nearly every day…" She trailed off feeling the familiar sting of tears prickling her eyes. Sure, he made all the wrong choices, but half of it, if not more, was forced upon the Malfoy heir. He was equally a victim of this bloody war….

Feeling her starting to tremble Draco suddenly felt the need to backpedal, and quickly. He had forgotten the last time he dared to speak to someone, even his own mother, so openly and now realized he had said too much. In desperate hope to remedy the situation he spoke up again.

"The house elves are actually not half bad company, if you manage to ignore the squeaky voices." He smiled down at her and surprisingly got a strained, but honest smile in return.

"Draco Malfoy, dining with house elves? Hell is bound to freeze over." She looked up at him and snuggled closer into the warmth of his chest. "We all ended up screwed over, huh?" the Gryffindor asked matter of factly. "Muggleborns, half-bloods, pure-bloods…it's all the same."

"Justice is the first casualty of war. Most of the rest are civilians." Draco said half lost in his own thoughts.

"Who said that?"

"Hmmm?"

"It's a quote, I remember hearing it before. Who said that?" she asked again a little calmer now. The sizzling tension was somehow gone. All that was left in its wake was a comfortable, almost cozy silence.

"I can't quite remember. Some muggle. Maybe it'll come to me later. Potter should have dealt with your boyfriend by now. You might want to go back and check if they managed not to kill each other in the process. "

"He is not my boyfriend anymore." Hermione said instantly and with unwavering resolve.

"Does he know that?" The smirk was heard plainly in the blonde's voice, even if Hermione was not looking at his face.

"Not yet, but he'll find out fairly soon."

"Good riddance." Was all the commentary she received. This time when Hermione stirred to get up he didn't hold her back, however she had no plans of leaving if she could help it.

"Dance with me?" she asked fully standing up and reaching her hand out for the handsome young man still curled up on the floor. "Not because you owe me anything – you don't. I-I just really want to dance with you…if you don't mind…"

"Even after it got you into so much trouble?" he asked arching one elegant eyebrow, smirk pulling one corner of pale lips up wickedly. Oh hell…Hermione caught herself thinking she wants to kiss that smirk away so badly.

"Yes."

"Even if I might dip you into another compromising position?" he asked standing up in one fluid movement.

"Yes."

"I might take that as consent…" He was reaching for her hand and pulling her closer with a playful glint in his eyes. Sly, as a Slytherin ought to be, but Hermione wasn't afraid of it any more…Actually, she had to admit she may come to like it.

"It is. Now come here and make me forget this whole ordeal ever happened." It took all courage the Gryffindor girl had left to say those words, but it sure was worth it when a strong arm wrapped around her waist pressing her into a welcoming embrace.

"As you wish, my lady." Draco whispered into her ear, feeling his own pulse pick up. With a wandless spell the music filled the room and bounced off of stone walls just to reverberate deep in Draco's chest. This was not a lesson any more…so what should it look like? What can he allow himself? Essence of Tango is after all seduction…and for Draco Malfoy seduction starts in the mind. Therefore he simply had to remind the purpose of this dance to the beautiful young woman in his arms. "Remember, this will not be a lesson…This time when you dance with me, it's for pleasure of my touch alone. It's the true heart of Tango Hermione… seduction." he whispered low in her ear, feeling the small body shiver lightly in his grasp.

"Then I might not be very good at it…" she answered so close her lips almost brushed his jaw. "I don't even know what the proper step sequence is…"

"There is no sequence, love. Tango is pure improvisation from start to finish, a physical expression of feeling between a man and a woman." He had to stop himself from turning his face just a few inches and claiming those full, rosy lips.

"Then show me what you feel…" she whispered. Without a second thought he did. This time there were no safety barriers to keep them from doing whatever their hearts desire. When he wanted to run his hand over her thigh, he did, when she felt like sneaking her fingers into his silky hair, she did just that without bashfulness or remorse. It was freeing to be able to express longing, gentleness and desire without words. They danced for long minutes ignoring the changing songs and adapting to them effortlessly. Slowly Hermione got braver and started to lose control of her own inhibitions, they seemed irrelevant at this moment. Her feet took more daring steps, teasing Draco into chasing her…holding her closer. Her hands traveled freely over strong shoulders, lean sculpted back, even if it was hidden by thick layer of wool…Merlin, she had to admit she loved this – his touches both attentive and passionate – clearly letting her feel just how much he wants her, but never making it lewd on undignified. A true aristocrat…god help her.

When one particularly fiery piece ended they were both left panting, faces so close the tip of her nose brushed his cheek. Knowing exactly what she wants Hermione traced his cheekbone with the tip of her nose till their lips were millimeters away and stilled. Now it's his choice. Will Draco kiss her? Or even after all of this he still thinks she's beneath him? Waiting in trepidation she bit her lip not noticing the silver eyes tracing her every move.

Draco Malfoy stood immobile, completely torn by doubt. Would he really dare to touch someone so pure, someone completely unattainable for a man like him? Would it be alright to indulge, just this once, to allow himself to feel fully? Watching her cheeks stained red from their dances, the brown eyes hidden by long lashes and those lips, oh so soft and tempting, he knew…it was not right. But he was always selfish, so why not allow it one more time? Throwing all doubts to the wind he raised his palm to hold one burning cheek and closed the small gap, pressing their lips together.

Hermione sighed with both relief and pleasure when their lips finally met. Her body melted into his arms almost without her consent. This felt different from any other kiss she had ever had…Krum, Ron…they all faded away when a warm tongue swept carefully between her lips asking for permission. With a small gasp she let him in and clutched those firm shoulders tighter as the taste of green apples and something very lightly bitter - maybe tea - filled her senses. His fingers found their way into her hair, sliding over her scalp slowly as an equally gentle palm explored her waist and back. Slow and languid, their kiss stretched into eternity it seemed, but at some point it had to end…When they both were nearly swaying form the lack of oxygen Draco broke the kiss and looked down at the tousled girl, dazed and panting in his arms. In another world he would kiss her again. Invite her to dinner. Buy her flowers and get her silly drunk on fine wine… and maybe, if he was very, very lucky… take her home and make her his own on the cool silk sheets. But this world is much darker and by far more crooked, so Draco just took a step back, holding her up, just to be on the safe side, before stating the inevitable fact. "You ought to go. Potter will be worried. And the Neanderthal has a good news coming, right?"

Hermione stared at him blinking stupidly. Why is he pushing her away now? "But…" before she had a chance to argue her case the door opened and a worried Harry stepped through. Draco's hands fell away from her body in an instant.

"Hermione? Malfoy? You are still here?" he asked in unveiled disbelief. "It's been nearly two hours…What the hell were you doing here all this time?"

"And how is that any of your business, Potter?" Draco answered icily, slipping into the usual mask without second thought.

"She is my friend, Malfoy, if you hurt her in any way it is my business!"

"It's fine Harry. He didn't do anything bad, we were just talking. I needed to calm down. After that we danced a little more and that's it." Hermione reassured her doubtful friend. She intended to walk to the door, but Draco beat her to it.

"She won't need any more dancing lessons, your friend managed to learn it enough not to make a fool of herself. Good night Potter, Granger. " with a small nod Malfoy slid through the gap between Harry and the door disappearing into the dark hallway.

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Recently I've been informed that some of the descriptions of the dance are incorrect and they probably are to an extent. Unfortunately the review got lost somewhere, so I cannot thank the person who wrote it...  
I corrected some of it, and can only hope the rest will not offend anyone.  
I've been taught to tango about seven years ago and NOT professionally, by a friend from Buenos Aires. It was only less than a week of learning, so I remember the feeling more than the steps themselves. This was written purely from personal experience. Please take note, that if you will choose to learn Tango professionally, it will not be exactly as described. You will probably learn step sequences and not be given the option to just play around with steps. Still, I think it should be much fun.


	2. Chapter 2

Well, here is the second and last chapter. I was not quite sure how to finish this, so it came out the way it did without my consent. Have a good time reading!

 **I don't own any characters in this fiction and gain nothing but good time from it. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling.**

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In the Gryffindor main room a hearty fire was burning and throwing shadows on the walls and faces of two figures in opposite armchairs.

"I will break up with Ron, Harry. It has to be done." Hermione stated firmly, despite the sadness in her voice. She was looking at the fire instead of her friend nearby.

"Maybe you should think about it? I mean what exactly happened there?" Harry questioned, desperately trying to understand how the situation changed so quickly. When did their relationship become so rocky?

"He walked in to find us dancing and lost it again. I thought it was just another rant, like always…so I came closer to try and calm him down." She lapsed into silence for a moment and that told Harry just how bad this was "He was about to hit me, Harry…" The bright girl said barely audibly. "If not for Draco…Malfoy, he would have struck me. I know he is in a bad place right now, but this is unwarranted, and I will not tolerate it."

"I can't believe it…I mean really, 'Mione? He actually…shit." Harry sat in the large chair looking down onto his own palms in his lap. Ron was getting lost in his grief for a while now and Harry knew it was only a matter of time before it got out of hand…but he still expected to save his best mate somehow, to drag him back to life. "If you leave him he's going to break down completely."

"And so I'm supposed to sacrifice my own life to try and help a man, who doesn't even try to get better? Is that it?" Hermione couldn't allow one man's grief to drown two lives. Her temper flared giving the young woman strength she so desperately needed.

"But we can't just leave him to fall apart!" Harry argued, desperate to find a way out of this ugly mess.

"Can't we?" Harry was shocked into silence by the simple question and the cold determination shining in his friends eyes. "Harry, just so you know, the best way to heal alcoholics is to stop giving them any kind of support. When they break down completely is the only time they have a chance to actually stand back up on their own two feet. It's a scientific fact…and we need to face the truth – that is what Ron has become – an alcoholic."

"Merlin…And I thought it will get better after the war…" He trailed off half to himself and fell back into the armchair.

"The war is not over yet…"

They spent the rest of the night in silence.

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In a few days the exam season began and every graduate student became endorsed in preparations and exams themselves. The mess made it easier for Hermione to avoid Ron, who now made it his life's mission to follow her around like a lost puppy. She had broken off their relationship the very moment he was sober and awake enough to understand it. It ended in another noisy brawl and more (not too subtle) insinuations towards her and Malfoy. She didn't even try to deny it. If she was honest, there was something between her and the blonde Slytherin, has been for a long time, they just ignored it. Standing on different sides of a war didn't pose the best conditions for a relationship of any kind. So now, when it was not strictly forbidden…who knows? However in the bustle of exams she couldn't get a chance to talk to Draco ether, he would appear and disappear like clouds in summer, never staying long enough for her to catch him. Will he be willing to talk to her as openly and cordially as he did that night? Will he try to keep his mask on and push her away? With no time to spare to additional thoughts Hermione pushed the image of their gentle kiss out of her mind as far as she could.

The short weeks of exams flew by unnoticeably, leaving exhausted but happy graduates littering the halls and sometimes the school grounds, if the sun was warm enough. Everyone was bustling again, this time because of the ball. Girls ran around gossiping about the newest fashions for dresses and boys, if you could call them that, mostly complained to their friends about the uncomfortable official attire. Even if they were almost adults, pairs for the ball were still a big thing. Harry obviously took Ginny with him and Ron apparently changed tactics and decided to try and make her jealous by bringing a pretty blonde Hufflepuff with him, if Hermione remembered well, her name was Annabelle. The brightest witch of her age, as they came to call her, decided to go alone. She didn't feel the need to settle for anyone she didn't actually want to be with…and the one person she wanted seemed to have disappeared into thin air. She honestly regretted not asking Draco where exactly his chambers were, but back then it didn't seem relevant.

Trying to distract herself from the strange longing in her chest, impending party preparations and three necessary dances, Hermione decided to pick out a dress. She had more than enough money of her own, and equally plenty of free time, so making it a whole day event she wondered from store to store eyeing various ball and cocktail dresses. One in particular caught her eye – a pink dress, long and divided into several layers of ruffles. It reminded her of the dress she wore during the ball of the tournament. She was a girl then – a happy and considerably carefree girl, who will receive her first kiss that night. Turning her face towards the mirror Hermione knew instantly – she is not that girl anymore and pink ruffles don't suit her. Brushing her hand through the light material she kept walking till another familiar color made her stop in her tracks.

Gryffindor maroon.

Deep and velvety colour, so familiar and yet still striking. A long straight cut maroon dress with a lovely neckline, deep enough to show off her skin without being indecent…and a split that would go rather high up her leg… Then again, why should she hide? It's her body after all and she is old and confident enough to show it now.

She tried it on and instantly fell in love with the way the heavy silk hugs her body accenting every curve. 'If I'm actually going to this bloody ball…let them all fall of their brooms' she decided and bought the luxury item. Now the only problem was sleeves. The dress had tiny, barely off shoulder sleeves and Hermione needed to hide a certain scar on her arm, so a pair of black elbow length gloves will do. After a few more minor details she was finally home and snuggled comfortably into the window seat in the Gryffindor common room. She may have bought all the fancy clothing and shoes and so on…but one thing didn't change. Looking through the window longingly she knew one thing for sure – she still doesn't want to go.

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Separated by long miles another pair of eyes full of longing and desperation stared through a window.

"I honestly don't want to go, Mother." Draco spoke up after a rather long pause. Turning back towards the room he found the last ambers of a fire slowly fading out and his tall, elegant mother sitting in one of the large armchairs, just like he left her. A small book was propped open on her leg, but she was clearly not reading.

"I know darling, but you must. Your absence might be noted and we cannot afford that, not now. Our family standing is still very fragile. If we want to keep this manor, along with at least the shreds of the dignity Malfoy name once held…unfortunately we have to bow to all social graces." She spoke in a quiet and apologetic voice. Narcissa knew this family had already demanded more, than her son could give, and he still chose to give it. Even if it brought him to the brink of madness. The ones, who were not there, in the Malfoy manor, never had the chance to see how close to breaking her poor son had come. But now they were relatively free, even if she was on house arrest and a large cloud was still hanging over them…it was still better, much better.

"I know, Mother." Draco answered after another long minute of silence "I will go, just don't expect me to enjoy it. The whole bunch of graduates runs around trying to find dates and clothes…as if any of it really matters. It's like they have all forgotten we are lucky to be alive and I'm the only fool left to remember it." The bitterness was dripping off of every word.

"I know it may be an unreasonable request, Draco, but perhaps you could try to forget it as well, just for that one night." Before her clearly affronted son could start berating her, she continued, and thankfully he had good enough manners not to interrupt "I know what you'll say, darling, but you have worked hard for this last year and your exam scores are excellent. You deserve at least one night of freedom from these ghosts that haunt us all…"

"I'll…I'll try. That's the best I can promise." He told her and turned back towards the window. Unfortunately, wherever he turned for the last two weeks the only thing young Malfoy could see were smart, sparkling brown eyes. Soft pink lips. Bright smile directed straight at him. He shouldn't have agreed to teach her, especially not Tango. The long years of attraction kept at bay were bound to make him slip and fall in love with her. And that one kiss was the biggest mistake of all – now he couldn't think of anything but her. Hermione Granger. A young woman with a bright future and an equally bright mind to match it. It was pathetic, really, he knew he could never have her even now, after the war. Last name Malfoy was enough of a hindrance to attend further studies, let alone court one of the saviours of the Wizarding world. Sighing he covered his weary face with one hand just to try and rub the exhaustion off of it. One thing Draco hoped for the most was to avoid Hermione during the ball. There will be quite a lot of people, so he should be able not to see her…because if he does, Draco knew he'll be lost for all time.

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The long awaited day finally came, adorned with fancy bouquets of flowers, silk ribbons and bright smiles on the faces of graduates. They all seemed to almost shine with joy. Their results were out, pairs arranged and music playing, pleasantly filling the large hall. Food and drink were plentiful, especially the drink…or that may just be the ability of the male population to seek that particular luxury out.

Hermione stood in the far corner, hiding from the crowd of slightly drunk men. She may have liked the dress, but it sure made every idiot in the room want a piece of her. It looked rather beautiful, she had to admit herself, with the black gloves and equally black strappy heels, she practically didn't even need jewellery. Harry had nearly fallen over when he saw her, and Ron's reaction was one of indignation and slack jawed awe. She had never dressed like that for his benefit, and never will.

Remembering her Waltz fondly she thanked Harry one more time for coming to save her. If not for him, she may have had a trouble picking among the outstretched hands. Also, there is the fact, that Harry really is good at Waltz, so it was an easy and pleasurable dance. Quietly she observed her friend standing by the snack table - he and Ginny were looking so happy bathed in the flickering light of candles, that she suddenly felt envy pierce her chest, just for a moment. These two found something worth keeping.

Neville was also somewhere in the crowd with Luna as his guest, and thankfully saved her from the second dance – Foxtrot. Now that was fun, she allowed a short moment of reminiscence, before turning back to the problem at hand. There was no one left to save her from Tango. No friends to give her a reason to say no to all those starry eyed fans, she apparently gained after the war. The loud and authoritative voice of the headmistress announced her doom.

"Ladies and gentlemen it's time for the final dance. I would kindly ask you to pick your partners for this dance in the coming minutes and gather on the dance floor."

Closing her eyes Hermione prepared for the last ambush, and sure enough, when she dared a peak at least five potential suitors were walking her way…except the crowd was getting thinner. Her heart leapt into her throat when a familiar head of platinum blond hair appeared among the suitors. It couldn't be anyone else. Hermione had to swallow hard just to keep composure as a tall lean figure of Draco Malfoy stepped in front of her…and apparently scared the rest of the young men away. He looked ridiculously handsome standing there in black dress pants, snow white shirt and dark, rich grey dress vest, stormy eyes gleaming - just like she remembered. When he finally looked up at her, time seemed to stop for a second and the young man just stared, unable to say anything.

Draco thought he could do this. From the first moment Hermione Granger walked into the ball he couldn't stop looking at her. Even if he pretended not to, even if he scolded himself in the worst words possible...he still followed the rich, dark red of her dress almost against his will. During those weeks at home he had fought this feeling, tried to suppress it, eradicate it, and eventually gave up. The simple fact was Draco Malfoy, the heir of Malfoy family, a former Death Eater...was foolishly in love with the brightest witch of her age. He promised himself to cut it off completely after this night, but it was too tempting to have just this one dance. He simply couldn't resist the temptation to hold her one last time. However now, standing this close, seeing her skin gleam in the candlelight and her eyes follow his every move he realized he made a grave mistake. How can he ever walk away from her? How can one dance be enough? And yet it must be enough. Gritting his teeth he tried to force his stubborn mouth to work, but then she just smiled at him, like he was the best thing that happened today…

"Draco…" Hermione spoke quietly, afraid to shatter the moment, but unable to keep quiet a second longer. If he won't move for ten more seconds…she might just glomp him in a very undignified way. Seemingly his name was enough for the Malfoy heir to find his voice:

"Miss Granger, would you do me the honour of dancing this last dance with me?" Draco himself was surprised at how calm and level his voice came out. With a slight bow he stretched out his hand and waited for her verdict.

However, as they say, nothing good comes easy…so in a second another hand reached out for Hermione.

"Hermione, would you rather dance with me? As bad as I have been, I cannot be worse, than a murderer, right?" Ron beamed at her stretching his hand further, almost in front of her nose.

Feeling her blood boil Hermione stood straighter and took a step to move around the offending appendix, shoved nearly in her face. He had the audacity to treat her poorly, call her both a prude and a slut on separate occasions, and still expected he's better than someone… anyone… else?!

"I don't think so." She answered curtly and tried to step aside, where Draco was still locked in a half bow. She could see his hand tremor lightly.

"Have you completely lost it, 'Mione? This guy is a death eater! One for the bastards we fought against, or have you forgotten the war already?" Ron billowed much louder than necessary and attracted the attention of surrounding crowd. Hermione glanced at him before noticing her other suitor stiffened instantly. Draco still did not move, but she could see him curl his fingers back in, clearly expecting defeat. Gritting her teeth she turned to a bright red Ron staring at her.

"No, Ronald, I have not forgotten the war." She answered equally loudly and with as much pride as she could muster - this was more than a dance invitation now "And the war is not over yet. We have one more battle left, a battle we must fight not against each other, but alongside one another. It will be the hardest mission we are yet to face – and that is to find our place in this new world, to learn to live again and coexist peacefully. We all have scars left…and they all hurt. No one's pain is greater or smaller than the other's." She spoke the last sentence looking directly at Draco, who was standing straight again and looking at her with an expression of both disbelief…and what seemed like pride. Without a moment of doubt she pulled off her silk gloves and revealed the angry red scar. It read "Mudblood".

That was the hand she stretched out to Draco and panicked slightly when he didn't take it right away. Only then she realized what he's doing…The Malfoy heir was taking his own gloves off and unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt. Soon pale wrists were on full view and he proceeded to roll his sleeves up, revealing the ugly black mark marring his pale skin. That was the hand he stretched out to take hers. "Let the last battle begin, Hermione." Draco spoke quietly but with his head held high as he tucked her arm around his elbow and led them both to the dance floor. Nobody dared to say a word.

Drawn in by the scene Harry came around to find a fuming, scarlet faced Ron, nearly ready to go out onto the dance floor and _drag_ Hermione away from…Malfoy, it seemed. A slight shock was the fact they both had their arms naked to the elbow, her scar and his mark side by side. Only then Harry realized how serious this unusual relationship between his friend and former enemy had become. When did they get so close? Split second decisions were always Harry's forte, so he decided to trust his intuition and stop Ron, instead of helping him.

Surprisingly it was McGonagall's hand, which stopped Ron. "I'm afraid, Mister Weasley you have lost this round. Please take it like a man and kindly join the other pairs on the dance floor. Your lady is waiting over there, if I'm not mistaken." She pointed to the left where a rather displeased looking blonde stared daggers at Ron. He sighed and reluctantly went to her. When the slow and sensual rhythm of "La Paloma Blanca" filled the hall, Harry was about ready to go get Ginny on the dance floor, but Headmistresses' voice stopped him.

"Mister Potter, do you by chance happen to know who taught Miss Granger to dance Tango? Because it was certainly not me. I happen to remember her absent from my classes."

Harry hesitated for a moment, but then figured there's no point keeping it a secret.  
"Draco Malfoy. We asked him to teach her after she skipped a few of your classes for studies. Why do you ask, Headmistress?" the dark haired young man couldn't figure out how the woman remembered every single student…

"This is not the Tango I taught you. There are several types, Mister Potter. The one we learned is American or Ballroom Tango, which is a standardized version of the dance… and this..." They both turned back at the pair locked in an intimate embrace, completely immersed in one another…cheeks pressed together and feet entwined, moving in harmony almost teasingly…seducing and beckoning the other closer…Harry started to feel a blush rising up from underneath his collar.

"R-right." He stammered looking away and facing the elderly woman "I always thought it was not the same…What is it, then, Professor?"

"This is the original form of Tango – the Argentine or lover's Tango. It is mostly reserved for private dancing and is rarely, if ever, taught. Most people in the Wizarding world think it is unsuited for ballroom dancing, simply because the practitioners of this type of Tango believe it cannot be danced properly without true emotion. Lover's Tango is not possible without…love." McGonagall answered almost to herself, watching the young pair slide apart and come crashing back together, like two magnets drawn by invisible force. It was an odd pair, she thought, but by sheer example they could do a whole lot of good in the world.

Hermione had forgotten the crowd, all permeating noise, glorious occasion on the very moment his hand touched hers. Now she drifted in a fog, even if the movements of their bodies were quick and sometimes even provocative, she could barely feel it. All she knew was his smell and warmth washing over her, soothing the ache she felt for the long weeks. How can someone come to crave something as simple as another person's touch so quickly? Along with her body, her mind raced and swirled unstoppably.

"Where have you disappeared to?" she asked breathless in his ear as they slowed for a couple of steps.

"I've gone home to visit my mother…she is terribly lonely." He answered, a little breathless himself. After her questioning look he spinned her body out just to pull her back with force. The stubborn girl still looked straight at him with question in her eyes. "She is under house arrest, no guests allowed." He explained eventually. Trying to physically distract her was pointless, clever witch. In all honesty, she was succeeding in distracting him…running her strapped heel up his calf suggestively and slipping away the next moment…it drove Draco mad. 'I've created a monster' he thought to himself, feeling his heart trash wildly in his chest, like an animal trying to claw its way out. Maybe that's why they call the chest rib _cage_ …

"Did you miss me, by chance?" he threw the snide question her way, trying to regain some control over the situation. It only resulted in her small palm fisting the hair on his nape rather viciously.

"What do you think?" Hermione was glaring up at him, eyes flaming. She pushed him back, taking the lead for a moment and pressing her not entirely covered bust against his chest. The last smithereens of his resolve to leave her after this dance were crumbling quickly. Merlin, he wanted her. Badly.

"I can guess…" Draco trailed off, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably.

"After this dance is over…will you disappear again?" Hermione dared to ask the one question that truly bothered her. She let her lips brush his cheek as she spoke, pressed so tightly onto his chest it almost let her feel his pulse. Through the dance she felt it, his desire and maybe something a bit more…he felt _something_ for her. Now the question was: will he choose to act on it, or turn away? The Gryffindor felt his breath on her neck for a moment and then a quiet voice in her ear:

"Hermione…I can't…We can't…" Music came to an end at that precise moment cutting his sentence short. They were left in the strange silence – faces flushed and only inches apart, eyes burning. Draco was first to notice the crowd around them. Every single person was staring at them with various degrees of shock, curiosity and disbelief. He started to feel the familiar coil of anxiety winding in his chest before her hand turned his face back towards those brilliant chocolate brown eyes. There was a strange glint to them. Without a moment's hesitation he knew – Hermione Granger is about to kiss him and throw her life away.

"Don't." Draco whispered coarsely "It's a statement you don't want to make."

"I believe that's my choice. Push me away if you don't want to…" She whispered and pulled his face down melting their lips together. It was not passionate or long – just a firm press of her full lips to his. Standing fair on her promise, she let go of his face. Draco knew if he wanted to, he could pull away, but there was no point now. Against all odds this stupid, stubborn and unreasonably brave which chose to stand by him, of all people. She saw his mark, knew his history first hand, and never flinched. Even if the entire world was against him...Draco knew he'd be happy to have just her on his side. And maybe...they could claw their way back into the light together. Her warm lips were hesitantly moving away and the sudden panic he felt made the choice for him. Draco reached up to hold her face closer and kissed back.

Hermione felt relief washing over her when they parted slowly. He didn't run away. Looking up at the stormy gray eyes she found a sort of fond resignation in them.

"Bloody Gryffindors…You are reckless." He whispered quietly, smiling.

"I'll make sure to check all the rules for loopholes next time before kissing you." She shot back, grinning.

"Next time?"

"Next time." Hermione knew this relationship will not be easy, but still desperately wanted to try. There was little to lose and so much to gain. Only then she started to notice all the people around them still stood on the dance floor, staring and whispering to each other. She quickly spotted a flaming red head of Ronald Weasley – he was boiling beside Harry, who seemed to be holding his friend back. A sudden rush of fear took over her. She had been brave one too many times today and had no bravado left in her reserves. Thankfully Draco's hand wrapped around hers and pulled the frozen witch through the crowd and out of the room.

Even when the large doors swung shut behind them, the Slytherin didn't stop. He kept dragging her for another couple of corridors before they both let out a breath of relief and slumped against the wall, side by side.

"You've really done it…I can't believe this." Draco started a little breathless from the quick paced stroll through the corridors.

"I really did…and I don't regret it."

"You might come to, eventually." He pondered before her hand connected with his shoulder.

"Shut it. Merlin, I need a drink…" Hermione said, feeling a nervous sort of laughter bubble in her chest.

"That can be arranged." Draco smirked, looking sideways at the giggling witch. They were both high on adrenaline and rush of adventure. When she raised a questioning eyebrow he just reminded playfully "I still have the privilege of eating in the kitchens, so… who is to stop us from sneaking a bottle out. Wine?"

"That sounds heavenly…" she sighed, already imagining red wine sliding down her throat "but aren't we supposed to be back at the ball?"

"The official part is over, we received out greetings, danced our necessary dances, so technically – no. We are free for the rest of the evening…even if it may seem, well, promiscuous."

"Let them think whatever they want. I want that wine." She grinned at the blond man sitting only inches away and got up.

"Since when are you so akin to break the rules, Granger?" Draco teased, getting back on his feet.

"Since my first year at Hogwarts." She smirked back and got a bark of loud laughter in reward.

They made their way to the kitchens bickering good naturedly. Hermione had to admit when Malfoy was not trying to prove himself to his maniac father or playing the part of a radical Pure-blood, the young man was intelligent, downright hilarious and surprisingly enjoyable to be around. Sneaking a bottle of wine was much easier, than she expected and Draco even had the audacity to stand there and choose, reading the old labels despite Hermione's insistent tugging on his sleeve. Giving up she walked around the tables picking out various snacks and when the stubborn prat was finally ready to go, she had a fair assortment of food tucked into a small woven basket.

Eventually they ended up in one of the northern towers, in front of a wall, guarded by a chimera statue. It opened bright green eyes and looked at them impassively. With an often practiced movement Draco scratched the beast behind its ears and slid his hand over the long nose two times. The whole wall sunk in immediately, letting them into a small round room.

It had a desk, four-poster bed with green satin curtains and a very soft looking brown comforter thrown over it. A thick old fashioned carpet decked the cold stone floor. The small space was surprisingly clean and tidy, with barely any personal belongings. Only on second glance she noticed the suitcase almost fully packed in the corner.

"Welcome to my current abode." Draco smiled at her, noticing the curious gaze running over everything at once. He decided to let her explore and set about lighting the candles with a wordless spell. When the small room was glowing with candlelight he set the wine and glasses down on the chair beside his bed. Hermione was still wandering about, poking her nose in everywhere. Discreetly. Draco couldn't help but snort. The sound made Gryffindor girl jump and turn around with a slightly guilty expression.

"You have already packed?" Hermione asked quickly, trying to distract her host. It was not the most brilliant question, but it worked.

"Actually, I haven't unpacked after my last visit home. The only things I took out were the clothes." He answered the question while popping a couple of top buttons on his shirt loose. After a long and mostly unpleasant evening, paired with abating adrenaline rush, the bed seemed to be calling to him. Kicking his shoes off Draco sat down, patting the bed beside him in invitation, and started to open the bottle. Slowly and carefully the mattress dipped a good half meter away.

"Where is your renowned bravery, Hermione?" the blonde smirked, throwing a quick glance at the lovely witch, sitting on the very edge of his bed. He gave her a glass of burgundy red wine and watched her take a good, hearty gulp.

"I drained the day's supply dry. If you want bravery, come tomorrow." She bit back more than happy to bicker. It earned her a crooked smile just before Draco took a sip from his own glass and sighed. It really was a good wine. Watching the reflection in the glass he noticed something interesting.

"Well, to be precise, it's already tomorrow – past midnight. Look." Outside the sky was sparkling with fireworks, the fiery flowers spreading out in the inky darkness just to fade away in a short moment and be replaced by another wave of brilliant colours. Both graduates got up and stood by the window quietly staring into the vivid sparks of colour fading in and out of existence.

"This is it. We are no longer students at Hogwarts." Hermione spoke not really expecting an answer "So what do we do now? Where do we go?" When she turned towards Draco he still stood straight as an arrow facing the colourful spectacle but not really seeing it. She observed the various shades of light playing on his pale skin and light hair. The silky strands looked almost white in the dim room. If not for his chest moving Hermione might have thought he was a ghost.

The distant look in his eyes didn't bid anything good, so she decided to try and drag him out of the reverie. "I've seen your scores." She stated out of the blue. It was enough to make the blond forget whatever train of thought he had just a second ago and stare incredulously. "Don't ask how…but they were really good. You could do anything you want, even the Auror academy is not off limits with scores like that."

The pale face looked at her with disbelief clearly written on the angular features "Auror academy? With a last name like Malfoy? Have you hit your head on the balustrade on our way here, Granger?"

"Well…it might be a bit of a challenge…" she trailed off smiling at the affronted expression. Even if the words might have sounded biting there was no real anger in his voice.

"That's to put it lightly. And who on earth made you think I would want to spend the rest of my life running around after criminals? I've had my fair share of battle magic and, just so you know, I'd be more than happy to never encounter a chance to use it again."

That came as a surprise to the Gryffindor, she always saw Malfoy as someone, who enjoyed duelling…apparently it was just another part of the show. "So then enlighten me, what are you thinking about?"

Draco wasn't sure if he should tell the truth. It will not sound too impressive...but he did trust her with ridiculous amount of his personal life before. Leaving the window he padded back to the bed. After that very _public_ kiss they were bound together, for better or worse...Still, not trusting himself to tell her the honest truth, he decided to use distraction instead."What about you? What will be the lucky area you decide to grace with your presence?"

"I hope to get a scholarship into the Ministry of Magic and work there. This new world needs adjustments to both laws and rights of its various inhabitants. It will take time to change the system, but it can be done." Hermione answered seriously and followed Draco back to the bed, falling down on her back alongside him. Even if her glass stood abandoned on the floor, the alcohol was already working its way into her veins. She barely ate anything throughout the entire day, so an empty stomach reacted quickly. In the lingering silence Hermione turned on her side to watch the blonde beside her, and was surprised when he stretched out his hand to invite her to come closer. A bit shyly she scooted over and laid her head on his shoulder. After a moment of hesitation Hermione even dared to rest her hand on his chest. The Slytherin simply sighed and pulled her closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"I was thinking about St. Mungo, Healer's program." He spoke up in a minute, deciding to be honest about it after all "An apprenticeship there would give me a chance to work with various medical potions and perhaps later branch into apothecary and private potion making. It may be a good business. I don't particularly want to live off of my father's money any more. They belong to my mother for all those years she had to spend with the bloody bastard."

"You'd be great at it." Hermione agreed, mulling the thought over in her head "Now that you mentioned it, Potions was always one of your best subjects. It requires precision and patience, and you have both...when you want to." She couldn't help but tease the blond lightly while running her palm up and down his chest.

The tower was chilly, even if she had a warm body pressed to her side, so it was inevitable that her skin erupted in goose bumps after a couple of minutes of laying still. Draco's fingers noticed the change instantly.

"Are you cold?" he asked, turning towards her for the first time during their little chat on the bed.

"A bit." The girl smiled sheepishly "But this dress is not exactly meant to lounge in chilly towers."

"Perhaps you should go back and…"

"No. I don't want to."

"Hermione, you're being unreasonable." The Slytherin reprimanded looking at her stubborn expression. Lovely pink lips pouted adorably and he simply had to kiss them. Pulling the lithe girl closer he kissed her slowly, enjoying the first shock melting into warm submission. She was surprisingly easy to handle if one uses gentleness instead of force. After allowing himself a long minute to indulge in her sweet mouth, he pulled back.

"Well at least get out of that dress, as lovely as it is, and…" He started just to be stopped halfway by Hermione's terrified expression and fiery blush. It extended all the way down her neck and even into the shadows of her clavicles. The violent reaction caused a wide grin to spread on the young Malfoy's face. "What dirty thoughts you have, Miss Granger…" he whispered close to her lips, before placing a small peck there. Hermione seemed frozen in place. "However I meant to say you should take it off and I will give you a sweater and some sleeping pants for the evening."

She bolted upright on the bed and refused to look at him. "Sorry…I just…"

"It's fine...nearly all people have the habit of thinking the worst of me, so I no longer take offence." Draco smirked, ruffling her hair and standing up "Now come on before you freeze to death."

Soon a large grey sweater and dark green fleece pants were laid out before her. Draco pointed to the stairs going down and explained it's the bathroom. Not trusting herself to walk straight Hermione took off her heels and only then descended down the stairs to change. Finally alone she sighed in relief. It was a close call – she nearly gave away the small detail she had never…well, been with a man before. The Gryffindor knew that it's perfectly normal - she is very young after all. However there was the fact she is alone in a tower with a stupidly handsome, snarky and very tempting Draco Malfoy, who is most certainly _not_ a virgin...well, let's just say she didn't want him to know she was _that_ inexperienced.

Trying to push the unsightly scene out of her head Hermione started to divest herself of the fancy gown. After a couple of tries to pull the zipper down she sighed and used a wandless spell on the forsaken contraption. It still didn't budge. Feeling panic rising up in her throat she tried to pull the darn zipper down again and failed miserably. After about a minute of standing barefoot on the cold floor she resigned to be thoroughly teased and climbed back up the stairs. Draco turned towards her and raised a questioning brow, wordlessly asking why she is still wearing the dress.

"I'm stuck." Hermione mumbled under her nose, looking anywhere but directly at his face.

"Sorry?" Draco clearly didn't catch her words.

"I can't take it off…the zipper is stuck." She explained louder, still giving the carpet her full attention.

"Oh…Would you mind if I tried?" He asked surprisingly carefully. The Slytherin stood up but made no move to come closer.

"O-okay…" Hermione squeezed out, her nerves on high alert. This will be closest to naked she had ever come to be in the same room with a man. There was nothing under that dress except fancy, half see-through underwear, which she honestly regretted buying at the moment. With her heart in her throat Hermione watched Draco come closer slowly. He was very cautious in every move, but still had to turn her around because her feet seemed to be frozen. Feeling his fingers slipping under the top of her dress for better hold made her tremble.

"Shhh…it's okay, bear up with me for a moment." He spoke gently just beside her ear, almost like the times they were dancing. Somehow it made her relax a fraction. His fingers tugged the material once, twice, and the sound of a zipper sliding open made her gulp. There she was – the brightest witch of her age – terrified to stand in front of a man in her underwear. 'How stupid can you get, Granger?' she berated herself, but it didn't seem to work. She was still trembling like a leaf in the wind.

Warm palms landed on her shoulders carefully, keeping the sleeves from sliding off completely, and she felt him turn her around again. This time she couldn't stop herself from looking at his face. Draco was smiling barely visibly, only a small, gentle curve of lips. Looking down at her his silvery grey eyes seemed to swirl with unveiled affection.

"Am I really that scary?" He asked barely audibly.

"What? No! I mean…it's not you …I just never…that is…" Hermione tried to find words to explain her unreasonable fear. A month ago, she intended to give her virginity to Ron on the night of the ball, but that was out of the question now...and it left her terrified of the prospect of no one wanting her ever again. Not that she was any less afraid of actually doing it. Obviously she couldn't say _that_. Forcing her brain into overdrive she tried desperately to find the right way to put this without making a total fool of herself.

"Hermione, stop overthinking." Draco's voice pulled her attention back into the real world. He saw her fear and it was beyond adorable, but now was not the time to tease her about it. For some reason the beautiful and usually ferociously brave woman in front of him was scared out of her wits, and it was his job to calm her down. Somehow. Comforting people was never Draco's strong side, but he had to try. Willing all the warmth in his chest to somehow show the blond spoke quietly, looking straight at her "I know you are untouched and it's not something to hide or be ashamed of. Your virtue is a wonderful gift you can choose to give someone you deem worthy. It's your choice. There is no need to explain yourself to me or anyone else."

No one had ever put it like that to her. In the Muggle world every magazine told you, you should want to sleep with someone, preferably more than one man, quite early just to be a proper woman…and even in the Wizarding world being a virgin for too long was sort of a sign of being…well, undesirable. Hermione knew better than to let some silly fashions affect her decisions, but she still couldn't help but doubt.

"You don't think I'm a bit too old for that?" she asked without thinking and almost groaned when her head caught up with her mouth. The blonde young man was staring at her as if she has gone mad. "Sweet Salazar, have you lost it completely? Or is one glass of wine enough to make you blind drunk? You're nineteen, Hermione! And I'm not giving you any more wine…" he added the last sentence as an afterthought, making her laugh against all odds. If there was one thing Draco Malfoy was good at, it was making her laugh. All tension slipped out of her body in a tirade of very undignified giggles. Completely forgetting her state of undress she hugged him tightly and he hugged back chuckling quietly into her hair.

"Now go. Get dressed." The Slytherin told her as strictly as he could at the moment, which was not really impressive, considering he was barely holding back laughter. With a small kiss on her nose Malfoy heir spun the girl around and pushed her lightly towards the stairs.

Stumbling down Hermione couldn't help but smile. Draco had given her full choice and no jugement, which somehow made her more confident. The short time she spent with him proved one thing clearly - despite his bad reputation Draco will treat her well. Always. In worst situations he managed to make it easier, to make her laugh. Smiling, Hermione left the fancy dress on the floor and with a deep breath decided to be brave and take what she wants.

After a couple of minutes the Gryffindor climbed back up drowning in Draco's large sweater, it was nearly falling off her shoulders. Surprisingly she found her host had ditched the shirt and vest, replacing them with an equally large dark blue sweater, just on him it was at least not falling off. Feeling emotionally drained and, strangely, quite relaxed, Hermione crawled onto the bed and reached for her glass of wine before a pale hand snatched it away.

"No more wine for you, miss Granger." Draco smirked at her holding the tempting glass away "You can't hold you liquor."

"Yes I can. Now give it here." She demanded reaching out for the glass, just centimetres away from her reach. "I'm afraid not..." was his only answer. So being the Gryffindor she is, Hermione decided to get her property back by force. Climbing on all fours she grabbed his sweater with one hand and reached the other towards her goal. Obviously it left her out of balance so they both tumbled down in a messy heap. Draco barely managed to put the glass down before they fell over, but his fingers were still stained with a little bit of burgundy red wine.

"Now look what you've done! Its blood, I'm telling you!" he barely squeezed out, unable to stop laughing. Draco had to wonder, when was the last time he laughed so much in one night? It must have been years…but now he really couldn't be bothered to care. Especially when a certain Gryffindor had just grabbed his hand and was looking at it speculatively.

"Let me verify that…" Hermione trailed off with a big smile just before her small pink tongue slipped out and ran over his fingers. Lapping at one digit then another she revelled in the sense of power. The gorgeous Slytherin was frozen, staring at her every move with increasingly darkening eyes. By the time she dared to take one fingertip into her mouth and suckle it gently nearly all silver was gone replaced by pitch black. The moment she released his finger with a quiet 'pop' Hermione found herself pressed into the soft sheets with the weight of Draco Malfoy holding her down. He reached up and framed her face with his hands. "Do you have any idea what you are doing to me?" Draco asked millimetres away from her lips before plunging down and kissing her deeply. Their kisses have always been gentle, careful and slow, so the sizzling desire in this one made her nearly melt into the sheets. The warm lips of her beloved Slytherin devoured her whole, his tongue plunging in and out of her mouth in an imitation of what he clearly wanted to do to her elsewhere. Hermione was drowning. His lips, currently lavishing her neck, turned her insides to jelly, and his palms found their way under the ridiculously large sweater, travelling over her skin in blazing trails. She couldn't breathe, or think straight, but it didn't matter. One large palm lingered questioningly just under her breast, playing with the silky material and waiting for permission. Unable to form coherent sentences she arched her back, pressing her body into his palm and whispered a breathless 'Yes'. Swift fingers divested her of the unnecessary piece of clothing and she felt his entire palm squeeze her flesh gently, playing with the hardening nub. Draco growled into her neck and promptly proceeded to suck the sensitive skin making a moan slip through her lips unbidden. Soon they were both lost in newfound desire. He settled himself between her thighs and pressed his body there, letting her know just how badly he wants her. Hermione felt a wave of heat travel down her spine and coil between her thighs when his hard shaft pressed into her body through the layers of cloth. She had to acknowledge the simple fact - Hermione Granger had never wanted to have sex this much in her life. It was always something that needed to be done, a part of natural flow of a relationship and not much else…but now she couldn't care less if it was needed…she _wanted_ him inside her body.

"Draco…I want more…" she panted out clutching his shoulders tighter and trying to drag the oversized sweater over his head. He let her throw it to the side before looking straight at the sheer beauty of Hermione Granger. Still drowning in his huge sweater, with the wild hair thrown around on the pillow and lips swollen from their kisses she was a vision. Draco looked down at her knowing he will probably go mad if she will change her mind, but he still had to ask. It's not a gift any man has the right to take lightly.

"Hermione…Are you sure?" the blonde asked breathless. He knew his face was as scarlet as hers and his hands were shaking, but he needed to know.

"Positive." She smiled up at him and tried to pull him down for another kiss, but the Slytherin stubbornly stayed out of reach, looking down on her. If he'll have her once, Draco knew no one else will ever be enough…so he had to take precautions.

"If…if you give me something so precious…there will be consequences." His hands never really stopped moving, swirling small circles on her shoulders, travelling up her neck to finally settle on her face. When he spoke again the young man's voice was filled with deadly resolve. "If you become mine tonight I will court you properly, Hermione Granger. I will try my best to woo you and I won't stop until I make you my wife. Do you understand?"

She lay there, bathed in his warmth, his smell, and unable to process the words for a second. When the meaning finally sunk in she wanted to cry. Hermione was ready to take this even as a onetime tryst, to enjoy it and not ask for more, if he chose so. But to see the resolve written plainly on the angular, aristocratic features, to hear he wants her, not just for one flimsy night…She wanted to laugh and cry and kiss him all at the same time, finally settling on:

"I do. And you won't need to do much to woo me…it's already done." She smiled up at the familiar stormy grey eyes, watching them glow brighter with every word.

"I'll hold you accountable on that…" he smiled down feeling something expand in his chest. Unable to hold out much longer Draco bent down and claimed the beloved lips once more.

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Long years have flown by quickly and Harry was setting his firstborn son up for his first year at Hogwarts. Ginny had stayed home with their daughter and the two men of the family were strutting down Diagon alley with their hands full of books, robes and various other tools. Now one of the few things left to acquire was a cauldron, flasks and several herbs for the first level of Potions. Harry had an ulterior motive to buy all this at a certain shop, run by non other that Draco Malfoy himself. Stepping up in front of a small, but clearly well off, establishment he looked up at the sign. It was a living pine branch, growing straight out of the building and holding a vivid green circular sign that read "Evergreen potions" in elegant golden cursive. The shop had become famous for its excellent potions, both medicinal and not, but Harry always avoided it, simply out of shame of not contacting his friend for many years. Hermione had married Draco Malfoy a year after graduation. They kept in touch for a while and then just somehow stopped. He knew they had a son about the same age, so hoped he could find her away from the ministry work for once, getting her own son ready for school.

When the tiny bell announced their arrival, Harry expected to see a head of blonde hair, and he did…just it was distinctly lower than it should be. A young boy appeared from the room and hopped onto what seemed to be a bench, going all the way around the counter and the shelves.

"Welcome to Evergreen potions, how can I help you?" he asked exuberantly and without tiniest amount of fear. The blonde hair fell onto his pale face in unruly curls and smart dark brown eyes watched the customers carefully. Harry could not mistake those eyes for anything in the world – they were Hermione's.

"Well, maybe we should wait for your father...or mother?" Harry asked carefully, unsure how to proceed.

"If you only need the ingredients or tools I can help you with that and if you are looking for a potion, then yes, you'll have to wait for my dad, he'll be here soon." Only after his little speech the boy noticed Albus Severus, hiding half behind his father and clutching a list tightly. The blonde walked around the counter and poked his head to the side to see the other child better. "Hello there. You look like a first year, just like me. I'm Scorpius, by the way." Crouching down on one knee he reached his hand out for the smaller boy and Harry was surprised to see his own son reach back timidly.

"Albus Severus." The dark haired boy said taking the outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Are you here to get all the stuff for Hogwarts?" Scorpius asked in a friendly manner. Harry stood frozen, it was so unlike the way he first met Malfoy. Nodding repeatedly Albus stretched his list out to the other boy, but the blonde just shook his head.

"Don't bother, I already remember it. There will be a lot of first years this year." He commented nonchalantly and went about picking various things off of shelves before a small crash from upstairs made all the shop inhabitants look up. Harry was alarmed when the sound repeated itself and then a strange tirade of shuffling followed. Scorpius just rolled his eyes in exasperation. Noticing the worried expression on the customer's face he sighed.

"Don't worry, Sir…it's just that my parents are weirdoes, they have a bad habit of dancing tango in the kitchen." Scorpius explained smirking broadly.

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That's it folks! Thank you for reading and see you in other stories!


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